Rhapsody
by lyart
Summary: “You’re not thinking about going out with Spain, are you, bastard?” When he'd sought out Antonio to try to tell him his feelings properly this time, Matthew certainly hadn't expected Lovino to be there.
1. Part One

Canada and Spain have good relations, dontcha know. And there's just something that seems as though it could make this pairing really sweet.  
'Rhapsody_'_ can also mean 'an ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm_'._  
'_Niño'_ is Spanish for 'boy'. '_Mi tesoro'_ is 'my treasure'.  
I apologise for any historical inaccuracies.

* * *

He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Antonio, peering out through the brush at the intruder with bright, curious eyes. It seemed like stranger people were coming nowadays to his land, and _this_ newcomer was bright with a beaming grin as he directed his countrymen. He seemed almost like the sun, full of fiery vigour and life.

He explored and settled here and there, never seeming to notice the little boy who followed him, clutching the white bear, who yawned and dangled from his grip. Then, more strange people came, and drove out the man with the warm, infectious grin.

When he was France's colony, he'd seen the man again—he had come by, smiling curiously with gentle eyes down at the small blond child clutching his bear. Vivid and charismatic, each of his movements seemed to be infused with an energy that quiet Matthew had been drawn in by—so he learned this man was Spain, or Antonio. He hadn't seen him for a while afterwards, for Arthur swept him away from Francis.

He grew older, gained responsibility, and attended meetings.

Matthew watched people—being so quiet and invisible, he had plenty of time to watch. He watched every country, but he watched Spain most of all. His eye had always been drawn by that liveliness, by his affectionate demeanour when it came to his former charges and any others around him. At first, the Canadian assumed he watched Antonio because he wanted what the man gave so freely to the disgruntled South Italy. Affection, love, attention—Francis had been fleeting with his affections and his stay with him had been short. Arthur had been…_Arthur_, aloof and serious.

Oh, yes, he'd thought that at first. When weeks changed into months into years, he realised it wasn't like that anymore. Whenever Antonio would throw his arms around one of the Italy brothers, or both, something in Canada prickled uncomfortably, prompting him to turn away and look elsewhere. He wanted that attention—any attention from the man. Their countries cooperated, but Matthew cooperated with many others and most of them didn't even remember who he was. He wasn't like Alfred, confident and brash, even obnoxious. _Everyone_ noticed him.

Gradually, Matthew tried to get closer to Antonio, starting with moving so he could sit across from the man at the table. His gaze always seemed to be focused on someone else, however, someone infinitely more deserving. So Matthew—a little sadly—had swung his attention to Latin America, in what he could do there, and found himself abruptly jostled into being closer to Antonio. The man had recognised him one day during discussions, face lighting up with a surprised smile.

"You're that little Matthew, aren't you? Francis'?" he had asked cheerfully, receiving a furious nodding from the Canadian. "You've really gotten tall, _niño_!" So they cooperated and Matthew followed him and whomever else he had invited to lunch, often receiving annoyed looks until Antonio told them that it was Canada, not his overbearing older brother. It was nice to be around him, to receive attention, though Matthew admitted internally that he was greedy and found himself wanting more. More focused attention, just on himself.

He'd been delighted when the Spaniard had come up to him with a beaming smile, extended hand and exclaimed, "Canada! Let's make a Chamber of Commerce together!"

That had been a while ago. One day, though, at a world meeting, Matthew had overheard Antonio chattering excitedly to a grumpy Romano about how he was planting _tomates_ and wouldn't he come and help?

"I'm busy," Romano had told him gruffly, and Matthew got the feeling he was slightly apologetic for it, despite his demeanour. "You'll have to find someone else."

He'd found Spain after the meeting, shuffling his feet shyly as the elder man smiled curiously at him. "I-I can help you with planting your to-tomatoes, if you want," he had offered, received a surprised, but pleased, grin.

"Thank you, Matthew!" he had exclaimed. "Come over, and we'll plant _tomates_ together."

* * *

Matthew awoke to the feeling of movement, a gentle rise and fall. The next thing that occurred was the sound of feet crunching over ground, and an overall feeling of warmth. He sighed a little, not too concerned, turning his head and pressing his cheek against warm, somehow firm, fabric.

'_Firm?'_ he thought sleepily.

"Oh, are you awake, _niño_?" said a cheery voice. Matthew's eyes slid open slightly and he peered blearily upwards, blinking. Antonio smiled back at him curiously, his eyebrows raised, and it occurred to the Canadian immediately that he was being carried easily in the man's arms. His face flushed slightly with embarrassment—and something else—and he wiggled around slightly.

Antonio just kept walking, however, not making any move to put him down. "You dozed off during our little break," he told him cheerily. "But the _tomates_ are all planted—thank you for helping me with them!"

"I…it was no problem," Matthew stuttered slightly.

"I'll send you over some nice ones," Antonio promised him with a smile.

"Thanks, Antonio…" He wriggled a little bit, and the Spaniard shifted him in his arms, assuming that he was uncomfortable. "You know, uh…you could put me down…"

"But we're almost back to my house," Antonio said, smiling inquiringly at him before his face lit up with realisation. "Ah, don't worry, _niño_, you aren't heavy at all."

'_That wasn't what I was worried about,'_ Matthew thought and bit back a small sigh, mustering up a smile. He supposed he could stand it for a little while; it weren't as though he didn't enjoy being held in the man's arms like this. Twisting his head, he saw Antonio's house and was thoroughly glad the man chose to live in the quiet countryside, by the tomato fields, even if just for the privacy.

"You can stay for supper tonight," Antonio said brightly. "You can sleep over too—your flight leaves in the morning, doesn't it? No use spending money on a hotel." He smiled at Matthew, who nodded in agreement. The Spanish man hopped up the front steps to his house, setting Matthew down lightly so that he could open his door. The blond dusted himself off lightly, gazing at Antonio's back as he stepped inside, waving for Matthew to follow.

Matthew stretched out his arms slightly as he followed Antonio through the foyer. The house was small but comfortable, homey more than anything, and he felt immediately relaxed.

"I'll make some supper for us," Antonio said to him with a broad smile, walking towards his kitchen. "You go and rest, _niño_, you still look tired." Matthew _was_ tired, but he was also loath to let his host do all the work.

"I can help," he said, looking at him. Antonio shook his head with a smile, touching his shoulder with a gentle hand.

"Rest," he directed sternly, though his expression was kind.

Matthew wavered for a moment before he nodded a little and wandered into the living room. He sunk down in one of the chairs, listening to Antonio's soft humming as the man bustled about in the kitchen. He let his eyes shut slowly, head leaning back against the back of the chair.

He was content to just listen to Antonio active in the kitchen, beginning to smell something like tomatoes and assumed that they'd be having a kind of pasta dish for supper. A long time passed like that and he was slipping halfway into a doze when he realised that there weren't any noises coming from the kitchen anymore. He opened one of his eyes sleepily, then the other, looking towards the kitchen. Slowly, Matthew rose and shuffled toward it.

Peering inside, he blinked in surprise. Antonio had sunk down into a chair facing the oven and his eyes had slid shut. His breathing seemed deep, his chin resting on his chest, hair falling over his forehead. The Canadian stared at him before looking over at the oven. There was a timer on the oven, and he assumed that the food wouldn't burn as it would turn off before then. He wandered closer to the Spaniard's sleeping form, gazing at him quietly.

'_Ah, that's right,'_ he thought, _'Antonio got up early to meet me at the airport…then we were working all day. _And_ he carried me here.'_ He stepped closer to the dozing man, reaching out and brushing his fingers across his dark hair lightly. Antonio kept on breathing deeply. Matthew frowned thoughtfully, shifting closer.

He leant over him slightly, watching his closed eyelids intently. Then, he leant down, lightly grazing his mouth against his. As he pulled back, Matthew looked at his face closely, biting back a sigh as he saw Antonio was still asleep. _'This is probably why Francis can just grope him without him noticing—he's totally oblivious. Or, maybe just too trusting?'_ Matthew smiled slightly, quiet and fond, and turned to the oven to wait for the timer.

The least he could do was watch supper for him.

* * *

The bed in Antonio's guest room was heavenly to sleep in, and Matthew was loath to roll out of it early in the morning, slapping his watch to turn off the alarm. He blearily got up and dressed, gathering his few things together before yawning and stepping out of his room, rubbing his eyes. He'd set up a taxi to pick him up the previous night, so he hoped Antonio could get some rest.

He was surprised, however, to see a sleepy-looking Spain standing in the hallway, blinking at him drowsily. His hair was rumpled and he was shirtless, obviously just having rolled out of bed. "_Niño_," he yawned, "I thought I should see you off." He smiled.

Matthew lifted his hands, feeling guilty. "No, don't be silly, Antonio…I didn't want to wake you up…" He sighed slightly, looking at him apologetically. "I guess I was too loud?"

"No, no," chuckled Antonio, still looking drowsy. "I set my alarm." He stepped forward, towards Matthew, who struggled to keep his eyes on his face and not stare at his chest (and a very nice chest it was). He yawned again, covering his mouth with one of his palms and blinking slightly.

"Um." Matthew swallowed, gone a bit pink. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Antonio said and took his backpack for him with one hand.

The elder nation lightly took his hand, and Matthew fell into step with him as they walked down the hall and the stairs. Watery, early-morning sunlight crept through the curtains in the living room, lighting everything up softly, and Matthew smiled a little to himself, unconsciously hoping this wouldn't be the last time he'd see such a thing.

"Do you have time for breakfast?" Antonio asked.

Matthew looked at his wrist. "My taxi is probably already here," he said uncertainly and, peeping out through one of the windows, he saw it parked outside. "Yeah. I'll get something before I get on the plane, so no worries." He smiled.

Antonio looked pensive as he walked with him to the front door, opening it up slowly. Pale sunlight beamed down on the two of them and Matthew quietly noted to himself how it seemed to make Antonio's eyes glow. "Make sure you have a good breakfast," he told him with a smile.

"I will…thanks for letting me stay here, Antonio."

"No, no." The Spaniard shook his head with a smile. "Thank you for coming and helping me, _mi tesoro_." He shifted suddenly, sliding his hand, palm and fingers rough from work, around to the back of Matthew's neck. The Canadian paused in surprise, being pulled in, his mouth met with a warm one. Unconsciously, his hands moved to grip the man's forearms, fingers curled around them slightly.

When he pulled away, Antonio smiled broadly at Matthew, who stared dazedly back at him with pink cheeks. "Next time, you'll have to stay longer, _sí_?" he said, brushing the pad of his thumb over the younger man's lips with an affectionate chuckle.

"_S…sí_," Matthew replied, somewhat dazedly. Antonio smiled at him, the expression fond, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pushing his shoulder, encouraging him outside and towards the taxi. "Um, Antonio—!" He turned around, fully prepared to ask how the man had found out.

Antonio just smiled wider and tapped his own lips with a gentle wink. Embarrassed, Matthew flushed and looked down at his feet—apparently the elder man wasn't as oblivious as he had believed.

Feeling warm from the inside out, Matthew climbed into the taxi. He peered through the window at Antonio, whose hand was lifted slightly, until he was out of sight.

* * *


	2. Part Two

Why a second part? Because I can (and I was inspired by fanart of Spain aslasjdl Spaaaaaaaain ilu).

* * *

The hard-working type…Canada had to wonder if he had a weakness for that or something.

Because Spain, standing in front of him with a white bandanna around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, sweat dampening his skin slightly and a basket of tomatoes in the bend of one arm was making his stomach do funny flips and whirls. His face grew hot and he tried to tear his gaze away (and failed because, hello, those bare arms were pretty nice).

Then again, looking at South Italy in much the same state next to Antonio didn't make him feel anything of the sort, so Matthew figured it was just the Spaniard.

"Matthew!" Antonio said, smiling with both pleasure and surprise at him, adjusting the basket to sit better in his arm and against his hip. "I didn't know you were coming here today!"

"Who?" Lovino muttered alongside him.

"I came with Alfred—he had some things to do here and I didn't have any particularly urgent business to do at home," Matthew explained with a small smile, ducking his head. "It's nice to see you again, Antonio." The Spaniard smiled cheerfully and nodded. They hadn't seen each other for a few weeks now, though they'd talked often over telephone.

"Lovi, you remember Matthew, don't you? Canada!" Antonio waved at the blond and Lovino quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Hey," he said without any enthusiasm.

"H-hello."

For some reason, Matthew had an uncomfortable prickling feeling spreading out from where Lovino looked at him. Maybe it was because the Italian country's eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes had narrowed a bit, his lips pressing together as if to force back a scowl.

"So!" Matthew burst out, hoping to change the focus of Lovino's irritated stare. Antonio looked at Matthew, just smiling widely, affectionately. "You're harvesting tomatoes again? They look good." He blinked down at the ripe, bright red tomatoes admiringly.

Antonio smiled at him and nodded firmly. "We were just on our way back home," he said, indicating the stretch of dusty, rural road. Matthew had decided to go to one of the smaller towns away from Madrid while Alfred had gone to attend to whatever business he had. He had been hoping to run into Antonio, since he'd hadn't had a chance to see him in person for a while. Not since last time, where he'd failed spectacularly at actually confessing his feelings to the elder man and had wanted to remedy it (doing it over the phone just wasn't right, in his opinion). "Do you have to meet your brother?"

Matthew checked his watch idly. "No, not yet."

Antonio's eyes brightened. "Then, _mi tesoro_," he began cheerfully, "why don't you come with us? I was going to make a good lunch!" Matthew swayed, tempted, but Lovino's dark stare seemed to grow in strength when he heard the name and the Canadian floundered and looked away hastily.

"I don't want to intrude," he said lamely. "Al might be done soon…might call me to go meet him sooner."

Looking up, he was struck by the disappointment on Antonio's face and promptly felt like a complete ass. "You wouldn't be intruding," the Spaniard insisted, disappointment relaxing into gentleness, his tone coaxing. He extended his free hand to touch it to Matthew's shoulder. "Please, come. We'd like that—right, Lovi?"

"Yeah, whatever," the Italian gritted out. Matthew winced internally.

"See?" Antonio beamed at him, oblivious.

"If…if you insist," Matthew mumbled at last, ducking his head. The Spaniard laughed and swung his free arm companionably around Matthew's shoulders, turning him around to face the way the two of them had been headed. "Ah—what?"

"You can walk fine like this, _sí_?" Antonio asked cheerfully as he walked down the sidewalk, arm snug about his shoulders. Matthew could feel a stare drilling holes into the back of his head and resisted the urge to turn around and stare right back. "I haven't seen you in a while! Feels like forever!"

"Yeah." Matthew allowed himself to relax gradually under the weight of his arm. A hand mussed his blond hair gently and he leant back into the warm, calloused palm for an instant before it dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. "How've you been doing?"

"Oh, good, good," was the cheerful reply. "The tomatoes are good and the sun is warm, so I'm in high spirits!"

The Canadian ducked his head with a smile, Antonio's cheer infectious. The stare on the back of his head felt as though it could catch his hair on fire. _'What, he's not jealous, is he?'_ he wondered internally, but he couldn't think about it anymore as Lovino shoved his way between them, separating Antonio's arm from around his shoulders. Matthew drifted to the side, a prickle of annoyance rising up in him, and Antonio smiled in bemusement down at the younger country.

"You're walking too damn slow!" Lovino growled, adjusting his basket. "Hurry up already!" He jogged ahead and Antonio laughed.

"Wait up, Lovi!" he called and trotted after him, careful not to drop any tomatoes.

Matthew lingered behind, watching the two of them, Antonio playfully mussing Lovino's hair when he got close. He blinked slightly, a bit envious, and tucked his hands into his pockets as he plodded sedately after them. _'I won't get a chance to talk to Antonio alone about last time,'_ he realised. _'But I want to tell him how I feel…'_

"Matthew!" Antonio called, waving his free hand in the air, laughing. "You're too slow! Come on!"

Smiling a little, Matthew trotted towards the two older countries. _'I hope I get a chance. I don't want to just have to kiss him when he's asleep—or, er, faking sleep—again.'_

* * *

"You're not thinking about going out with Spain, are you, bastard?"

The question came out of nowhere, as Matthew and Lovino stood at the counter. Antonio had told them he had to run to the store to pick up a few spices and the two lingered, the former cutting vegetables, the latter crushing up tomatoes.

The Canadian turned his gaze slowly to the grumpy, elder Italian brother, knife hovering over an onion. "Well…" He began, and trailed off, unable to deny it.

Lovino made another irritated noise from deep in his throat. "You aren't like that shitty France, right? He raised you, didn't he? You aren't a pervert, are you?" he asked, squashing the tomatoes in a way Matthew thought was particularly ruthless, especially the way the juice sprayed up like blood. He hoped Lovino wasn't imagining his head in place of the tomatoes.

"France raised me for a little while, but then England took me from him," Matthew said after a pause. He looked down at the vegetables, remembering how upset he'd been at that time, so long ago, before getting back to chopping the onion into small pieces. "I don't know if I'm particularly like either of them…I don't really fit in with the rest of my 'family'."

"Yeah, you're pretty forgettable," Lovino remarked casually. "You're not as noisy as that bastard America, either." He paused, scrunched up his nose with annoyance. "Wait, this isn't what I'm trying to get at. If you're planning to go out with Spain—" here he jabbed a finger dripping with tomato juice over at the Canadian "—I don't want to hear about him being unhappy. You get me? I'm not afraid to kick your ass." He sneered a little bit, chin tilted aggressively.

Matthew looked at him with surprise—he hadn't been jealous? He'd been…_protective_. _'Oh god, that's adorable, don't smile, he'll get pissed off, don't smile—'_

"What the fuck are you smiling about, bastard?" Lovino snapped, his face turning the same colour as the tomatoes he was crushing up.

'_Damn you, facial muscles.'_

"N-nothing," Matthew told him hastily, lifting his hands in placation. He looked back at the vegetables, returning to cutting them with neat movements of the knife. "But, I'd…like to be with Antonio. I really, really love him. I have for a long time." He smiled down at the cutting board, thinking about watching that strange young explorer traipse across his land, curious and interested but never catching sight of the child who'd shadowed him.

A silence dragged on between them and Lovino let out a huffing breath through his nose. "Just don't come to me for advice or think you can complain to me," he grumped.

Matthew lifted a hand to cover his laugh and nodded. "Deal."

They heard the sound of footsteps and Antonio stepped into the kitchen with a broad, shining smile, holding a plastic bag. He looked elated. "Found everything!" he said cheerfully, setting it down on the table.

"You're too excited about spices, bastard," Lovino scoffed.

* * *

After supper, Lovino excused himself, shooting glances down at his cell phone, which had rung during dinner. "I'm going up to my room for a bit," he told Antonio. "Don't bother me." He glared at them both, like he expected them to run into the guest room where he was staying and just bang pots and pans together to interrupt him. That done, he retreated upstairs, grumbling to himself all the way even while he punched in a number to his phone. They heard him greet someone before the door slammed shut.

"Lovi's found someone," Antonio said fondly, his eyes twinkling.

Matthew smiled and nodded slightly, helping the older country with the dishes. He washed them, handing them over for Antonio to dry. Silence fell between them, broken only by the clinking of dishes and languid birdcall drifting in through the open window.

Eventually, Matthew got down to the bottom of the sink and turned slightly to tell Antonio they were all done. However, a warm body pressing against his back and arms wrapping around his waist halted any words in his throat. Breath puffed into the side of his neck and his face grew hot as hair tickled his cheek.

"Antonio…?" he asked after a few moments.

"You're so cute." The words were muffled against his neck. "You really, really love me?"

The Canadian spluttered, his whole body feeling like it had just caught on fire. "Were you _eavesdropping_?" he said incredulously and he felt the vibration of Antonio's chest against his back as the man laughed into his skin, arms tightening briefly.

"I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't particularly sound it. "I was just curious when I heard you two talking about me so I accidentally listened in…"

Matthew looked down at the arms around his waist, feeling horribly embarrassed. "I never got a chance to tell you before," he mumbled under his breath, his palms resting against Antonio's arms, lingering suds from the water smudging over his skin. "I mean, I really do…love you…" He swallowed lightly and Antonio squeezed him gently, crooning something softly in Spanish against the curve of his neck.

"I love you as well, _mi tesoro_!" Matthew found himself spun around, on the receiving end of a fiery kiss, palms cupping his cheeks and fingertips sliding slightly into his hair. Shutting his eyes, Matthew clasped his damp hands in the back of Antonio's white shirt, accepting the tongue that brushed along his lower lip and not minding as he was pressed back into the counter, even though it bit into his back—

"_Hey_! Cut it out!" Lovino roared behind them.

Matthew spluttered and tried to break away but Antonio only looked over his shoulder with his usual smile, the weight of his body keeping the Canadian pinned. "Oh, hi, Lovi!" he said brightly. "Are you done your phone call already? I thought you'd be longer."

"They ran out of minutes," Lovino said, frowning, but then scowled fiercely at them (more specifically, at Matthew). "I'll let you date Spain, but you aren't allowed to do anything where I can see it! I don't wanna see that shit!" He glowered fiercely.

"But Lovi," Antonio said with a laugh and nuzzled against Matthew's cheek, not even minding the Italian fuming in the doorway, "how can I be expected to hold back right now? Can't you go back upstairs and pretend not to listen?"

"NO, YOU BASTARD. CUT IT OUT."

* * *

…Haha.


End file.
